|Thanks for backing me up, Ting Tings. CREDIT.|
Recently I introduced myself as normal to a guest at the bar and rather than the usual response of “your name is what?” or “how did you make that shit up?” I was met by, “well you’re pronouncing that VERY wrong.”
Wait, what? You say I’m pronouncing my own effing name wrong? Yes, that is certainly what the middle-aged man across the bar from me was asserting. And he was asserting it quite strongly.
“I know a girl with that name and it might be spelled that way, but that is most certainly NOT how you say it.”
He then went on to “correctly” pronounce my name full of all sorts of letters that have absolutely no place amidst or connection to the actual letters in my name. This guy was pulling shit from all over the alphabet and jamming it all in my name however he saw he fit. For the record, I’ve heard my name pronounced lots of ways, but this was certainly not even close to one of them.
So I attempted to correct him. He would have absolutely none of it.
Let me get this straight. You’re trying to tell me that for twenty-six years I’ve been saying my name totally incorrectly? You’re also telling me that my father – who is still a citizen of the country of origin of my name – has also been pronouncing my name incorrectly. This leads you to basically be telling me that a whole freaking country has been pronouncing my name incorrectly for hundreds of years and not giving two craps about it. Clearly something is not adding up here.
For the record, he never believed that I was pronouncing my name correctly. It was clearly a lost cause.
If you’re reading this, dude. It just might be possible that your friend’s parents were the ones who choice an odd spelling of a different name. I’m not saying they are wrong, I’m just saying I’m definitely not wrong. I know my shit. And believe it or not I know my name too. It’s a gift.